Nicolas Flamel
Frankly, this is bullshit.
Absolutely stupid.
Childe did not just spend two hours mauling in the library to find one person, just for Neville to find him in a minute, not even actually.
“The fuck.”
“Language!” gasped Hermione, but she looked just as done as he was.
"You did not just find him," mumbled Childe, closing his eyes and groaning loudly as if in pain.
They had made up after the Troll incident and in Childe’s opinion, they were comrades now. He was still irritated by her from time to time, but eh- that’s one plus company at least.
Now his friends consist of Zhongli, Blaise, and Hermione. Hmph, don’t judge, he was making progress. Plus, he doesn’t really need any more friends or comrades, he spends most of his time with Zhongli anyways.
Neville- he’s also his friend? Childe wasn’t sure, he knew that the boy wanted to be his friend, but he was also scared of him. It was a bit like the Fatuis. Most wanted to be acquainted with him to gain higher rank or popularity, however, most were too scared to even get close to him.
Well, anyways, while the three of them took a break from searching for Nicolas Flamel, Neville brought out a chocolate frog from months ago, the one Zhongli bought on Hogwarts Express.
“You’re seriously gonna eat that?” He had asked, scrunching his face up. There was chocolate oozing from the package, dripping onto the table, creating a small brown puddle. Hermione frowned in dismay.
Neville shrugged, grabbing the card out of it, and shoved the melted frog into his mouth.
Childe sighed, and leaned back against his chair, can’t believe he was spending his Saturday in the library.
“Uh…” said Neville suddenly.
“Yes?” inquired Hermione curiously.
Childe had blinked an eye open, to see them hunched over the card Neville just grabbed out.
They were silent.
“What’s up?” He asked, his interest piqued. He snatched the card from them, carefully avoiding the chocolate stains, and looked.
A Dumbledore, was the first thing he noticed, identical to the one he saw on the train along with the two around him and Zhongli.
Nothing was out of place or surprising until he flipped the card over and read.
-for the discovery of the twelve uses of dragon’s blood and his work on alchemy with his partner, Nicolas Flamel.
And that's how it led to him and Hermione staring at Neville incredulously.
“You did not just find him.” Childe said slowly again, opening his eyes, sill refusing to believe that the elusive man was in a crusty musty chocolate frog the whole time. He did not want to believe that he had spent two hours reading- reading! Searching in books- when he was in a chocolate frog. And Childe even saw this exact card only a few months ago as well!
Neville nervously stammered, “Er- yeah- sorry, y-you’re right-” He chewed on his fingernails, “It’s n-not him-”
“Neville, stop chewing on your nails! It’s back for your teeth!” Hermioned snapped, cutting off his panicked rambling.
Childe groaned painfully again, and kicked one of the books, grumbling, “Can’t believe I read them all for nothing.”
Hermione stared at him incredulously. “What do you mean by nothing?! Reading is always something- no matter what you read, there’s always something that you’ll learn! Do you even know how to read properly actually? Do you have dyslexia? Poor you, I can’t imagine not being able to read…”
“I can read fine,” retorted Childe, grumpily. I just don’t like it…
“I’d rather be sparring…”
Hermione looked at him funny. “Dueling, you mean?”
“Yeah, sure whatever,” said Childe. “Look, we found our guy, now what? It barely says anything about him on the card- actually none at all, only his name!”
Hermione paused, humming to herself while Neville shrugged looking just as lost as Childe was.
Out of nowhere, Hermione jumped to her feet. She hadn’t looked so excited since they’d got back the marks for their very first piece of homework.
“Stay there!” she said, and she sprinted away from their library section, into another one. Childe and Neville barely had time to exchange bewildered looks before she was dashing back, an enormous old book in her arms.
“I never thought to look in here!” she whispered excitedly. “I recently just borrowed it from the library a few weeks ago for a bit of light reading- he must be in here!”
“Light?” said Childe, but Hermione told him to be quiet until she’d looked something up, and started flicking frantically through the pages, muttering to herself.
At last she found what she was looking for.
“I knew it! I knew it!”
“Are we allowed to speak yet or what?” He grumbled.
Hermione ignored him.
“Nicolas Flamel,” she whispered dramatically, “is the only known maker of the Philosopher’s Stone!”
This didn’t have quite the effect she’d expected.
“The what?” asked Childe.
“Huh?” asked Neville at the same time.
“Oh, honestly, don’t you two read? Urgh- I wish Zhongli was here. Look – read that, there.” She pushed the book towards them, and Chile and Neville read:
The ancient study of alchemy is concerned with making the Philosopher’s Stone, a legendary substance with astonishing powers. The Stone will transform any metal into pure gold. It also produces the Elixir of Life, which will make the drinker immortal.
There have been many reports of the Philosopher’s Stone over the centuries, but the only Stone currently in existence belongs to Mr Nicolas Flamel, the noted alchemist and opera-lover. Mr Flamel, who celebrated his six hundred and sixty-fifth birthday last year, enjoys a quiet life in Devon with his wife, Perenelle (six hundred and fifty-eight).
“See?” said Hermione, when Childe and Neville had finished. “You see now? Immortality stone that creates gold- in short.”
“A stone that makes gold and grants you extra life,” muttered Childe, contemplating. “Huh, that’s cool.”
“It’s more than just cool- It’s fascinating, intriguing, tantalizing, beguiling, riveting-”
“Okay, okay, we get it, you’re good with your words.”
“Oh my- bloody hell Childe! That’s not the point! Urgh! Oh Merlin, why aren’t you two more surprised?!” demanded Hermione with a pout.
Childe shrugged. “It just sounds like another artifact.” To be frank, he had seen way more interesting rocks before. Although he had no use for this rock, perhaps Tsarista would like it?
“I’ve already heard of the Philosopher's Stone, my gran used to tell stories to me. I just forgot,” explained Neville, sheepishly, “and no wonder we couldn’t find Flamel in that Study of Recent Developments in Wizardry,” He continued "He’s not exactly recent if he’s six hundred and sixty-five, is he?"
Hermione, who was still scowling at their lack of reaction, nodded stiffly.
If what Zhongli told him a few days prior was correct, the package Hagrid was keeping must have been containing The Philosopher’s Stone. It must be the object that the three-headed dog was guarding all along. And no wonder Snape wanted to steal the Stone, he seemed like the type who would chase after immortality. But Snape can keep dreaming, because Childe was gonna steal the stone before him as an apology gift to her majesty from straying from his post as a Harbinger for so long. Not that it was his fault anyways.
“Uhm, Childe,” Neville started nervously.
“Yeah?”
“Er- why are we searching for him?”
Oh that’s right, he never did tell them about his reason for trying to find Flamel. All he said was that he needed help in researching and Hermione practically bounced with eagerness and excitement that he finally decided to touch a book while she dragged him and Neville into the Library. Oh shit, what should he say? Telling them the truth wasn’t an option and lying would feel off as they did spent their free time helping him.
A mixture of both it is then.
So he leaned in, flicking Hermione in the forehead for her attention, and whispered, “This is top secret, okay? Only me and Zhongli knows-”
“Actually you should say, Zhongli and-”
“-so don’t tell anyone, got it?”
Neville nodded, eyes wide, while Hermione huffed at being ignored before nodding at him warily.
“This is very important! You can’t tell a single soul- not even the teachers, oh and please not the ghosts either. You have to promise me that you won’t.”
“I promise.” Neville replied eagerly.
Hermione, on the other hand, looked conflicted. She gave him a frown of distrust.
“You did something, didn’t you?” She questioned with a scowl.
He smirked. “Promise and you’ll find out~”
She rolled her eyes, and grumbled, quite ruefully, “I promise.”
“Great!” That was easier than expected, Childe was sure Hermione wouldn’t agree, but he supposed he shouldn’t underestimate what curiosity would do.
“Let’s get the difficult part out of the way first, so basically you know how there were some thieves in Gringotts a few months back?”
“I heard they were followers of you-know-who,” whispered Neville.
“Huh, maybe- well, they were trying to steal the Philosopher’s Stone, but Hagrid came and got it before those thieves could reach it.”
Hermione scrunched her face up. “Hagrid? The keepers of keys?”
“Yep! Me and Zhongli went over to his cozy hut a few days ago- a hundred percent would recommend! He even gave out tea and rock cakes. Although, I would recommend not eating those as it almost broke my tooths, but everything else was-”
“Continue on with the Philosopher’s Stone, please? You said Hagrid took it away, where is it now?”
Childe beamed at them brightly, not even complaining that Hermione interrupted him, and said, “Where else? At Hogwarts, of course!”
A pause, before,
“WHAT?”
Neville jolted at the sudden change of volume.
“...Also Snape wants to steal the stone, we caught him snooping around the corridor on Halloween.”
“...”
“HUH?”
Zhongli stared at the Stone Dumbbell hard.
He sat in his bed, with the curtains closed, inspecting it.
He doesn’t know how long he had been staring at it, but probably around three hours now. During the hours of inspection, he came to the conclusion that indeed, it was opened. How? He had no idea, but it looked different from the last time he had seen it.
Zhongli sighed, now that the Dumbbell was open, he wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do now. ( wasn’t something supposed to happen?) Well, he could sleep, he was pretty tired- which was unusual to him as being an Adeptus meant that he could stay up all night without feeling fatigue. However as he was way younger now, only a decade or so years old, his Adeptus powers became weaker, and weariness came easier.
Though, as much as his body wanted to sleep, he didn’t want to. He wanted to figure out the Dumbbell tonight. They had been here in the Wizarding World for a while now, too long for even his taste. Sure it was a fascinating place, but he had duties to be done back in Liyue. Not as their god, but as a funeral consultant.
Gripping the Memory of Dust in one hand, and hovering his other above it, he called to his geo powers- just to see what would happen. With the hand above it, glowing, the Dumbbell started glowing too.
Zhongli watched intently as it shook a little bit, before it stilled. Nothing happened after that.
Frustrated, he squeezed the Dumbbell. Guizhong was an amazing goddess, but Zhongli hates her for creating this. What kind of puzzle is this? For thousands of years he had been trying to pry it open, now it was open- yet nothing was happening. Wasn’t all her knowledge locked in there- wasn’t he now supposed to get her knowledge? He doesn’t feel any smarter, he felt like- as Barbatos would put it- an old blockhead.
Leaning back against his pillow, he closed his eyes. When did this dumbbell open? The last time he had seen it unopened was before he got transported here with Childe. Was the Dumbbell actually the one to bring them here like Childe had theorized a day ago? If so, that's stupid.
Because that would mean that Guizhong actually created this dumbbell as an universe traveling machine without telling him so. (Or maybe she was planning too but…)
Huh, now that Zhongli thought about it, the soft goddess was always fascinated by what lay outside of Teyvat, but how does arriving at another world have to do with “All my wisdom is hidden within this stone dumbbell.” Was perhaps the Wizarding world her wisdom? More he thought about it, the more confused he became.
Perhaps Childe was right- that Guizhong did travel to the wizarding world, years ago without Zhongli noticing.
Restless, he flung the curtains aside, opened the drawers, snatched Osial into his bed, and flung the curtains back.
Poking the snake, he whispered, “Wake up, I have questions.”
The snake hissed in annoyance, and opened his dark drowsy blue eyes still filled with sleep. “What the fuck you want?”
Zhongli paused, frowning at him. “Language- where did you even learn that? Nevermind, don’t answer that- not important,” He poked the snake again, much to his irritation. “How old are you?”
Osial flicked his tongue out, and stared at him.
“I’m serious, how old are you? Two hundred? Three? Four? Even better, perhaps a thousand?”
“What are you saying?” The snake hissed incredulously, “I’ve only been alive for around a hundred days around.”
Silence.
“You’re only… one?”
“In human years, you could say that. Do I look old to you?”
“Ah, no it is not that… your species in Teyvat are usually... older, a few hundred years old at least.”
Osial sniffed. “I’m not a Teyvat.”
“I know.”
Awkward silence.
“I’ll put you back in the drawer.”
“Yeah.”
Zhongli had been planning on asking Osial what he knew about dimension traveling, but as the snake is only one, he doubts that the snake even knows what dimension is.
Giving up, he set the Memory of Dust into another drawer, and closed his eyes, ready for sleep.
The glaze lilies swayed gracefully, as a breeze blew by. The moon above, shone remarkably bright, gave these flowers below a shine.
He watched, enchanted, and waited for the tune.
Softly, beside him, as gentle as dust; a voice sang out a lullaby, one of its kind.
Together with the lilies, he eagerly listened. Enthralled by the melody, the glaze lilies bloomed, its delicate petals unfurling in the night, swaying to the song, as they did to the breeze.
He admired the view, letting out a sigh. The lullaby was finishing and so was this dream.
Yet,
“Come find me in the mirror,” a voice whispered, a hint of urgency clear in her voice.
Then everything faded, and he woke up once more.
Draco stared down at his charms homework, fiddling with his silver quill, lost in his thoughts.
When he first met ‘Morax’ it was at a robe shop, the brunet had introduced himself as Zhongli back then. At first he had thought, bloody hell! A kid with a brain at last! Maybe if he befriended him, he wouldn’t have to be stuck with Crabbe and Goyle all the time.
But on the train, he realized that the seemingly ordinary boy was actually Morax! The boy who lived! The boy his father sent him to watch over and befriend to gather information on! What a twist!
Though honestly, Merlin, how did he not recognize him? Draco should have suspected Zhongli was actually Morax the moment he came into the shop with his ombre hair and sharp gold eyes. It must have been the eyeliner and the weird foreign name that made him think that Zhongli was just a random exchange student from elsewhere. The Potter family did have an Asian ancestor somewhere in their tree, perhaps Zhongli just got their genes.
They hadn’t gotten along great, but father wanted him to befriend Morax, so Draco would.
But then a Weasley popped up out of nowhere, a Slytherin Weasley, a disgrace. That Weasley even dragged him into the Forbidden Corridor! Where the big dog was! Draco had to tell his father about that, father was right, Dumbledore’s insane! Who keeps a three headed dog at Hogwarts, and claims that Hogwart is the safest place in the Wizarding World?
He should have told father about this, he really should have, but he didn’t. Why? He signed a contract with Morax. At the time, Draco had thought nothing of it, a silly promise that he'd break. Until he came back to his dorm, and prepared a letter to send to his father. It was only then that he remembered what Morax had said:
“-if you dare to break the contract, you will face the wrath of the rock.”
The wrath of the rock.
That’s what The Dark Lord faced.
And now The Dark Lord’s dead.
Draco had felt a chill run down his spine. He didn’t want to die, he had read how The Dark Lord perished, turned to a statue of rock, then into a pile dust. Not wanting such a... bizarre ending, Draco crushed the paper, throwing it into a garbage can and tossed his expensive quill away.
The wrath of the rock.
Now that was something he’d rather never face.
Looking down at his blank sheet of homework, he sighed. It was nearly time for lunch now, he had just spent his only free hour of the day, daydreaming. Father wouldn’t be pleased.
Perhaps Draco should advance on his mission to befriend Morax, he had to admit, he was a bit hesitant. (Not scared. Malfoys are never scared.)
He didn’t know how to approach the brunet, he’s a Hufflepuff afterall. It was quite strange, the powerful Morax being a gentle Hufflepuff? What a joke. He knew that Hufflepuffs are foolishly loyal to their friends, so maybe calling Weasley names wouldn't bring them any closer.
So Draco stopped.
Well, only once in a while, he’d verbally attack the ginger.
Whatever, thinking so much was stupid. He’ll take a walk along the halls to clear his thoughts before joining his fellow Slytherins for lunch.
“Do we come?” Goyle had asked, half-heartedly, “I’m hungry.”
“You’re always either hungry or starving,” he had snapped. “And no, go mind your own business.”
Randomly choosing a corridor, he walked and walked and walked.
Draco didn’t want to admit it, but Hogwarts so far was more pleasant than the Malfoy Manor. Not by much of course. Malfoy Manor was a bit… too cold and too empty for his liking.
Hogwarts was nice, he supposed. Although these doors could use some work, they look bloody ancient. The floor tiles should also have a rug or something, it’s weird to walk on rock concrete floors. The manor either had sleek tiles or a carpet. Urgh, guess Dumbledore was just too poor.
As he was glaring at the floor, he heard a rustle coming from behind one of the doors. Straightening up immediately, Draco swung his head around. He wasn’t scared, nope, totally not.
More rustling accompanied by a loud dragging noise. He pinpointed the sound to be coming from one of the dusty doors in front of him, the one to the left.
Another big dog? Or another bloody creature that Dumbledore kept in his bloody school. Oh Merlin.
Frozen with terror, the door creaked open.
Draco shrieked.
Turning to flee, he tried to run as fast as he could. Except he tripped over by his own sudden movement. Crashing to the hard ground with a loud thud. He was too terrified to be eaten by a three-headed dog, so embarrassment didn’t come- yet.
Scrambling to get back up, he stopped as a voice called,
“Draco?”
He snapped his head around.
“Blimey- what are you doing here?” He demanded. In front of him was Morax holding a giant mirror at least three times his size. Worst of all, he had just seen Draco trip over his own foot. He felt himself flush. How humiliating…
So there were no creatures. Just Morax and a very big mirror.
“Ah… about that,” replied the brunet, awkwardly shuffling. “I’m just… passing by?”
Draco arched an eyebrow. “Just passing by, huh?” His gaze flickered to the gold rimmed mirror beside him.
Morax lowered his head down bashfully. “Don’t mind me, I’m just… taking this with me…”
“So you’re robbing a mirror. Wow.”
Draco watched as the boy sighed, not even trying to deflect the accusation. Bloody hell, he actually is stealing the mirror. Should he stop him? No, that won’t get him on Morax’s good side.
So he just stared as Morax dragged the gigantic mirror out of the door. He had to admit that it was quite impressive, the reflector looked mighty heavy.
“Care to lend a hand?” Morax suddenly asked diffidently.
Draco sneered at him incredulously and said, “Are you seriously asking me to help you with a robbery? I’m not your accomplice, go ask your Weasley for help.”
“Childe isn’t my Weasley,” Morax retorted looking rather flustered, “And he’s busy with class. And also, by just witnessing what I’m doing and not stopping me- you’re already an accomplice.”
“You look like you’re doing alright on your own.” He pointed out. Although the mirror was heavy, Morax wasn’t even sweating nor did he seem tired.
“Still, some help would be appreciated.”
"Why not just transfigure it into something smaller, perhaps?"
Morax shook his head, a frown creasing his brow. "And what if I can't reverse it? I can't take that risk."
"Listen, if you don't, you're bound to be noticed. You're heading towards the Great Hall, carrying a gigantic, shimmering mirror. And your thieving skills, or rather, the lack of thieving skills are terrible. Honestly, I'm amazed that none of the professors have caught up with you yet, considering the noise you're making with all that dragging. You should count yourself lucky that I'm the only one who has stumbled upon you."
"Indeed, I am grateful," Morax retorted, his tone laced with sarcasm.
He scowled at him. “I don’t appreciate sarcasm.”
“But you use it too, don’t you?”
He huffed, sneering at him. “That’s different.”
“How so?”
“I don’t have to explain myself."
“Alright.”
Morax went silent after that, focusing on dragging the mirror down the hall. Seeing that the boy no longer wanted to talk, Draco rolled his eyes.
“There’s a secret tunnel around here, it’s hidden behind one of these brick walls, it leads to the same corridor as Hogwarts kitchen, which I believe is near your common room. And Snape’s teaching at the moment, so you should be fine.”
Morax lifted his head up to stare at him in surprise, before his eyes literally lit up like stars.
"Really? That's quite enlightening, I wasn't aware of that fact before. Are you suggesting that this mysterious passage takes one directly to a completely different corridor? Fascinating indeed! One can't help but ponder, does this imply that teachers- or even other students might frequent this hidden route? The thought itself is quite intriguing, isn't it? It brings to mind a myriad of questions about the unseen complexities of Hogwarts. I can't help but wonder, could there possibly be an intricate network of such secret tunnels concealed within the walls of Hogwarts, just waiting to be discovered?"
“...”
Myriad? Intricate? One?
“You sound old.” He blurted out. But seriously though, who uses those words?
Morax blinked.
“Ah, apologies for rambling, I couldn’t contain myself.” He looked just as surprised as Draco by the sudden rant.
“Whatever,” said Draco slowly, “I’m leaving.”
"The information about the passage is appreciated," expressed the brunet, smiling with gratitude.
Draco waved him off, turning around to leave. “Don’t get me wrong, I simply couldn’t stand the infuriating scratching noises the mirror was creating, and you should read The Secrets of Hogwarts, secret tunnels are mentioned everywhere.”
“I will, thank you,” replied Morax with sincerity and genuine appreciation.
Satisfied, he let out a small smile. He was definitely inching towards Morax’s good side. Oh, wait till his father hears about his progress.